Dawn of a New Fantasy
by Funkitated
Summary: Someone dressed as Sephiroth during the infamous Buffy Halloween and now the world's in for some nasty surprises. Xander's been saddled with cleaning up the mess, but who is keeping score anyway? Final Fantasy VII crossover
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Belongs to Joss Whedon and the rights to Final Fantasy VII belong to Squaresoft.

**Challenge Based**: Plot idea taken from _Challenge 1155: SOLDIER of the Hellmouth: Dawn of an Age_ at Twisting the Hellmouth.

**Notes**: Un-beta'd (because I don't have one). The title isn't exactly golden, but I hope this is decent. I have more planned out and wrote this in the interest of keeping it BtVS 1997 cannon, i.e. don't mention things from the future like Advent Children since the game was only released one month prior to Halloween. Enjoy.

oOo

"Gods don't like people not doing much work. People who aren't busy all the time might start to think." -Terry Pratchett, _Small Gods_

oOo

In a place not so much up as over, beings of unfathomable power played an ineffable game of cards.

Fortune peered at her at her atrocious hand. There was no way she'd be the first to fold in over 400 years. Before she was able to consider bluffing, however, a universal flux shook through the PTB's realm. _I'm not called Lady Luck for nothing._ Relieved, she looked over at the red faced destiny, his mouth transformed into a snarl.

"Damn it!" He threw down his cards in frustration, a royal flush.

_Twice Lucky_. "Wha-?"

She was cut off by a shriek from Gaia, who angrily swept the cards off the table, eyes watering.

Unaffected, Ares pushed away from the makeshift card table with a gauntleted hand. "Excuse me, but it appears my schedule just filled up."

"Hey. Guys. Card game, here?" Fortune irately attempted to remind the other deities of their quickly crumbling game, manicured hand rapping against the table.

Everyone in the room briefly paused to regard her before dismissing the idea of having to explain whatever was troubling them. Destiny began to pace, arcane obscenities tumbling from his lips. The leather clad God of War, on the other hand, was inching out of the room, surreptitiously away from what appeared to be a broken Gaia, whose tumbling tears were already forming small puddles.

Rolling her eyes, Fortune attended to Gaia, stroking her locks of withering green hair. Over the top of the green head she stuck her tongue out at an unabashed Ares.

"So, uh, seriously, what happened?"

"You really didn't notice?" Destiny sighed, a force that could shake worlds.

"Um, no." Ares snickered at Fortune's expense, vanishing smugly into a door somewhere behind Destiny's line of vision.

"Some idiot mage just summoned Janus, in the name of chaos," began Destiny, the natural pallor of his face returning as he explained to the very blond Fortune what exactly had gone wrong.

"Two-faced, sure. A dirty poker player, definitely, but isn't he more of a transitions kind of guy? Representing the middle ground, and given patronage for new beginnings and stuff."

"Exactly. He specifically promotes transitions. Invoking him for chaos _works_, but is just as able to bring about a new era." Destiny, the god made to look as ordinary and unmemorable as blank piece of paper, removed the makeshift card table from the top of a large diorama.

"Yeah, like a harvest," remarked Fortune, unimpressed.

"Yes, but hardly anyone invokes him for the harvest, or marriage for that matter, anymore." Destiny studied the diorama, noticing the fresh splotches of clear parchment that littered its surface.

"He's been bored stiff for centuries." Fortune's attention drifted away from the now sniffling Gaia.

"That's the problem." The plain man squinted at the dark ink, enshrouding other large sections of the scripture completely.

"Well, I bet he got a kick out of being summoned!"

"He had a little too much fun actually; it's what reduced Gaia to a sobbing puddle."

Fortune peered over at the diorama, "So what? Some hellmouth kids were transformed into their Halloween costumes. Oooh, scary. They just went back to normal."

"Except him." He pointed to a name near the top of the page labeled 'Earth.'

"Sephiroth? What kind of lame name is that?" She squinted, "Eew, geeky. A video game character." She shifted, tossing rays of golden sunshine over her shoulder, "Let me get this straight. Because some kid dressed up as some insanely powerful fictional character, the rest of the world is going to compensate?"

"It's already started. Earth is coursing, full of a new life stream in place of the normal latent magics and molten core." Gaia joined the other two, surveying the parchment.

"The people will adapt, just as they always have. However, _he's_ a menace."

"I don't believe the people will appreciate the knowledge that their new world is from a videogame either." Gaia issued a small hiccup and dabbed at her face daintily with a tissue, pretending she didn't have a bipolar breakdown a few seconds ago. "I think it'd be best if I destroy all evidence of the game's existence."

"Good thinking." Destiny turned, grimacing, "I'll just rewrite _everyone's_ tedious fates. Again." He began to leave, grumbling.

The green haired power turned to the blond. "Why must you always require such tiresome explanations?"

Fortune took her pinkie out of the ear she'd been scratching, "What?"

The Earth goddess slapped herself in the face, "I'm surrounded by idiots."

Fortune looked around, "I'm the only one here." And the only sane one at that_. _Just because she didn't have a freaking breakdown every time Earth spiraled out from under the PTB's big umbrella of a plan didn't mean she was somehow crazy. Did it?

Gaia nodded, "Yes, and you spectacularly failed to notice a giant spasm in the contingency of Earth and its time space continuum."

Sticking her tongue out in response, Fortune waited a beat then said, "Next time you need a shoulder to cry on, I know where I won't be. Besides, I noticed. I just didn't know what to do about it."

"For starters, solve the Sephiroth problem."

Gaia stalked off, leaving a pouting Fortune slouched over the remnants of Destiny's old plans. Scanning over nothing but millions of human names, she had no inkling of what to do. Deciding to eliminate anyone this _Sephiroth_ didn't know, she was left with Sunnydale residents.

Lifting up the tablet of names she peeked into the stereotypical, smoky viewing pool beneath. _What's this guy look like anyway?_ She nearly smashed her fingers dropping the tablet at the conjured image. Electric green eyes and long silvery hair that could melt any girl's heart. _He's bad he's stir-crazy_, but then the imaged wavered, revealing the teenager trapped underneath.

_Eh, I don't feel so guilty now_. _I'll just make someone his arch rival. That should take care of things. Win once, win twice, right?_

Finger lazily running down the list of names, she let out a yawn.

_Slayer? Nope, already a champion. Tree girl? Nah, she's gonna be a witch someday. Watcher? Too old. Harmony? She seems nice, but having guy memories might be pretty awkward. Okay, no girls. Oz? Not a wizard, but he'll be dating the female equivalent soon enough. Souled vampire? Sunlight challenged. Ugh, where do these people come from? _

_Hey, check out this kid. He's been possessed twice, well, as of tonight anyway. Eh, if anyone gets the hang of it, he will._

"Alright!" Rubbing her hands together the goddess stood, finger poised above the name. "Alexander Harris, I choose you! May fortune light your path."

She twirled, issuing a tiny golden orb of light from her fingertip to the script before dropping her casting stance like Cordelia would drop an out of style Louie Vatton purse. Fortune's nose crinkled in disgust, "I have got to update my technique."

The world below gave a lurch, kick-starting back into action like an old car, The Powers' interference a mere ripple in the pond of life. However, the fundamental quirks, disagreement, and general whimsical attitudes shared by the divine beings were probably what also left teenage girls saving the world on a regular basis, backed by nothing but old men with musty books.

oOo

As Rupert Giles smashed the Bust of Janus the air rippled, Ethan's spell surging back towards the very statue that called forth its power. However, instead of the energy nullifying itself in a harmless, invisible collision, the magic particles again propelled away from one another like magnets in too close proximity of the same pole. Spanning out across the crust of the earth, the spun themselves into something far more potent and greater than bits of disorganized chaos.

Buffy gasped as she felt a fresh, invigorating power surge through her. Wrenching off her dark wig, she gave Spike a right hook to his jaw as she intoned sweetly, "Hi honey."

A snarling Spike regarded Buffy angrily, "This isn't over yet Slayer!" Acknowledging his losses he quickly fled the scene.

"That'll teach him." Dusting her hands off she hurried over to the keeled over, groaning form of Xander. He was clutching the sides of his all too spiky head, as if attempting to keep his brain from leaking out his ears.

Wait, what was up with Xander's spiky hair? It was usually shaggy, and messy yes, but definitely not jagged and this length. Squinting, she leaned over his huddled form and began to pat his back. "You okay Xand?"

"He collapsed as soon as the spell ended," supplied Cordelia.

The stoic vampire crouched in front of Xander and asked in slightly louder tone than Buffy had done moments before, "Are you alright?"

In response Xander's face swam up from its earlier residence a mere few inches above the cement. Bright blue eyes met Angel's dark ones, expression wavering. Angel jerked back in shock, but not in time to avoid Xander depositing his lunch all over his shoes.

"Augh! That's disgusting. You could have warned me first." Angel grimaced at his new and now horribly doused shoes.

Cordelia scoffed. "Better you than me. The last thing I need is to have my designer shoes ruined after the disaster that happened to this suit."

"Uuugh, S-sorry." Xander groaned again as he rose to his unsteady feet. Was it him, or was the rest of the world still moving?

"You look really awful Xand. Are you sure you're not possessed? Your hair's crazy and spiky and your eyes are doing this glowy blue thing." Buffy wiggled her fingers for emphasis. Her Xandery shaped friend was, well, not in his normal Xander-shape.

"Quick, what's your name?" Oops, maybe she shouldn't have referred to him as 'Xand' a second ago. Hope he didn't catch that.

His head bobbed for a second, considering something that should have been a second nature response. "Xander," he said, but for a brief moment he was sure the name that was about to roll off his tongue had been something quite different. Groaning, he reflexively dragged his overly large Halloween sword off the ground until it was perpendicular to the concrete so that he could lean on it for support.

"You really really sure? No funny stuff. Your eyes are a totally different color, kind of like that time with the hyena." Noticing the sudden worry manifest itself on her friend's face she amended "Not that it's a bad sort of blue or anything. You don't look evil, but the last time your eyes went glowy and different you ate the school mascot."

Xander regarded his friend's wary expression tiredly before he croaked, "It's really me Buff. Right now the only thing I have a hankering for is a twinkie."

He didn't seem to be lying. Gawd, she was just ready for this night to be over. "Okay then, but if I find out you're some evil spirit I'm going to kick your soul so far out of my friend's body that you'll regret ever being born."

"Umm, good to know?" That edgy expression clenched it, this had to be Xander. Except, if something was possessing him wouldn't it also know to make that face?

Angel sniffed, "He doesn't smell possessed."

The three teenagers regarded the vampire quizzically, a little disturbed.

"What? Evil possessions sometimes have a terrible stench."

"Oookay. On that note, I think I'll walk Xander home now. Want me to carry that?" She motioned toward the large sword, but Xander shook his head. She turned to Angel, face set in a soft pout, "Meet me at my house? Xander looks a little worse for wear, so I'm gonna take him."

"You sure you're okay?" Angel asked with some residual worry.

"Great, I'm just glad to be me again." Buffy pat herself down. That big dark wig was a real pain.

Buffy prodded Xander and they both left, with little complaint from the young man. To him, everything seemed to be overlapping and his brain processing as if in a pool of jelly. He gave a sluggish wave and would barely notice the lapse between the walk home and when his head hit the pillow, despite Buffy's attempts at conversation.

Their exit left the popular socialite awkwardly alone with the souled vampire.

"You better clean yourself off or lose the shoes because I do not want to smell Xander's rank lunch while taking all these kids home."

Angel managed an annoyed eye roll before Cordelia resumed her talking, "Hey, where's Willow?"

oOo

Xander rolled over, registering the onslaught of morning light. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see his creaking, four-bladed fan. He didn't remember having a fan. No, he'd always had that fan. But he could remember complaining to his mother about the lack of a fan when the mountains would experience a rare bit of hot weather. He buried his face in his pillow. His mother didn't have blonde hair.

Wincing, Xander recalled the immense pain he had endured last night. It had felt like an out of body experience. At the time, he couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. It was intense at the molecular level. Not that he really knew what that felt like, but after last night he could take a wild guess. Behind the pillow, his expression tightened as he remembered experiencing something similar, at a time when his vision had been distorted behind a strange wall of water, bubbles dribbling from his lips. He had been trapped.

He gasped, inhaling a mouthful of pillow. Not Hojo, not again.

Jumping out of bed, he stumbled into the restroom and flicked the light switch on, trying to get as far away from his thoughts of the Nibelheim basement as possible. Honestly, he didn't know where that sort of response had come from. He'd never met anybody named Hojo, yet in the mirror, his eyes mocked him, almost glowing. They were an intense blue he couldn't remember seeing on anyone else's face, or his own for that matter. But he could clearly remember the basement laboratory, the place that had given his eyes that otherworldly look.

His forehead crinkled. Xander bent closer to the bathroom mirror and bared his teeth, chomping. He made a few faces, pushing his nose up, pulling his eyes down, stretching his ears away from his head. Everything looked in order, but he still felt… different.

He flexed his arm. Yup, some muscle. Niiice. Wait, were those pierced ears? Definitely don't remember that happening. Oh right, that time when he went out and foolishly got drunk with the other failed cadets when he was fifteen.

Except his seventeenth birthday was coming up, and he'd never failed any sort of soldier exam.

But he could still remember lifting the heavy sword that was currently propped up against his nightstand when he'd trained. Then again, he was sure he'd never trained for anything short of his old Street Fighter competitions with Jesse at the arcade.

Routinely, he bathed, brushed his teeth and hair, grimacing as the strands atop his head stuck out at odd angles. It was still a dark brown, but he was almost expecting blond. For a split second, if his hair had been an inky black, he would have thought he was a someone else different than the person he was already confusing himself with.

Could that make any less sense? Groaning, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. This was too weird!

After dressing he had to suppress the urge to take the sword with him. Normal people didn't carry big-ass swords like that, even if he could remember doing it quite regularly.

Pausing in the hallway, he eyed his five year old picture suspiciously. His eyes were brown, but when he touched the frame the image seemed to waver, and his eyes were blue, only they weren't the creepy, glowy blue he'd seen in the bathroom. Shaking his head, he decided to take an aspirin before leaving the house. He was getting a headache.

oOo

"Xander. . . Xander. . . Xander!"

"Cloud."

"Yeah, I know, there are some outside. Now what's up?"

"Huh?"

"We were talking about that seismic shockwave thing that happened after Giles broke the bust last night," the red head shivered involuntarily, " Maybe it's what made you toss your cookies on Angel's shoes, umm, I hope he doesn't mind. And I think it," the redhead made a vague hand motion at her face, "you know."

Giles continued to polish his glasses, "In case you haven't noticed Xander, your eyes are blue, and your hair is the most unkempt I've ever seen it. Are you sure you're feeling quite alright?"

"I think so, but I have this killer headache." He winced, "Well, maybe I'm not as okay as I wish I was, but there isn't any other aching, which is always of the good."

Giles glasses seemed to shine with an interested light as he balanced them back on the bridge of his nose. "What about your mind?"

"What?"

"Do you remember anything out of the ordinary? I heard you were, ah, possessed by military personnel last night. Anything left over from that? For instance, Buffy appears more adept at French."

"I'm totally a believer. Hooked-on-Hellmouth does help your grades." The blond gave a cheesy thumbs up and smile.

"I know who my new French cheat-," he spared a glance at the disapproving Willow," er, study partner is. Actually," Xander flinched as he recalled the wind flapping past him as he rode a motorcycle, an ungodly 'skkkkkkrtch' sound resonating to the side of him as he dragged a long metallic object a bit too close to the ground, "when the spell ended I think," he struggled with the words, "I got some memories from someone completely different than who I was originally possessed by."

But they weren't _someone else's_. It was strange, he almost couldn't remember _not_ having them.

"You're having after affects that don't even pertain to who you dressed as?" Giles worriedly reached for his glasses again.

"I think so. Before the spell ended I just had some guy stuck in my head who thought he was Alexander Harris, military officer with a really big sword, but after he disappeared. It was like I was someone else entirely from that."

"Sword?"

"Xander rented a huge sword from that Ethan guy," Buffy supplied, before frowning at Giles' darkening countenance at the mention of his wayward friend.

Xander smiled sheepishly, "He said they were all out of plastic guns, so he gave me the sword as a replacement saying that it was a soldier's weapon." At the watcher's disapproving look he amended, shrugging, "Hey, it was pretty cool and super cheap."

"I suppose we'll have to track Ethan down then. He must have put some extra magic into your costume Xander, and we need to know why and what he did. You shouldn't feel like anyone but yourself, with perhaps a few fading habits from the costume." Giles failed to mention that the boy could have merely been the one in a million statistic affected fully by the fickleness that was chaos magic.

"Yeah, we'll do anything to get you back to normal Xand," Buffy paused, "and to get rid of your porcupine hair."

"Hey!"

oOo

Xander was about to shut his locker when an errant fellow junior slammed into the ground at his feet, books and papers flying everywhere. Absently, Xander snatched a few of the papers out of the air.

After a grumbling Jonathan gathered most of his books, his spectacled face rose to meet the elder boy's. Their eyes met, Xander's impassive and Jonathan's laden with surprise. Xander fancied that he looked a bit like Harry Potter wearing those glasses.

"S-sorry," despite the apology Jonathan couldn't stop staring at Xander in wonder.

"It's okay. You should watch where you're going though. You could seriously hurt someone with all of those books." A bit disturbed by the stare Xander shifted his weight, "Umm. . ."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that. Thanks." Jonathan made a quick grab for the notes in Xander's hand, causing Xander's eyes to skim the page before the notes were wrenched out of his grasp.

Towards the bottom of the page he was able to make out one worrisome word amidst the sea of numbers, Jenova.

"You-," he began, but Jonathan was already bee-lining down the hall.

Preparing to follow, Xander was cut off by Cordelia and her harpies, and thankfully largely ignored.

"Watch where you're going, hedgehog."

oOo

"Andrew, we have a problem."

"Hm?" the freshman straightened the lapels of his coat, "I'm sure your eyesight will be back to normal by the end of the week."

"Not that," Jonathan rolled his eyes before pushing the indirectly aforementioned glasses further up his nose, "and I thought we were supposed to be writing our memoirs, not accessorizing."

Andrew pouted, "But it looks so cool."

"It won't look cool if you forget how to pull it off." The reply came in a huff.

"Oh, fine. What was the problem again?"

"Do you know Xander?"

"Buffy's friend?"

"Yeah. Have you seen his hair lately?"

"Pre- or Post Halloween?"

"Post."

"Nope, can't say that I have," Andrew paused, "Does he still even have hair?" The reply came as an exasperated nod. "Ooh, is it macho-Wolverine hair?" A head shake, "…is it blue? No? Blonde? Long?"

After growing increasingly suspicious, he squinted, "It's not silver is it?"

Jonathan almost growled in frustration. "No," he leaned forward, the light reflecting off his glasses, masking his eyes, "it looks sort of _birdish_."

"Like… an endangered peregrine falcon?"

"_No_. I was thinking of something a little more pertinent to, you know, our current situation."

"Like chocobo? He has _chocobo_ hair? But, chocobos are yellow," a pause, "well, unless you correctly use the sophisticated breeding system. Then it could be practically any color."

"And now we're just plain off topic, although I do find chocobo breeding quite fascinating."

"You would wouldn't you?"

"Ehem," the older boy trudged on undaunted, "The point is that Xander has unmistakable spiky hair and blue eyes that can only be described as mako treated."

"Oh. So he was Zack! Man, I didn't know he played Final Fantasy too. This is so cool. We should totally invite him to hang out with us. Then maybe he could introduce us to Buffy and Willow, compare comic book collections-"

"He looks like Cloud, not Zack!" Jonathan's near screech cut the hypothetical situation short, consequently diverting Andrew's senses to the remnants of his calm, collected possession persona. "Even though his hair is still brown and Cloud admittedly stole a lot of personality characteristics from Zack, along with his clothes, he was most definitely Cloud. Besides, his hair was short, and he didn't have the clothes or sword to mark him as similar."

Andrew mulled over the new, interesting tidbit of information. "So, why didn't you just tell me he looks like a dark haired Cloud?"

The other teen answered with a simple, tired shrug.

"We can probably use this to our advantage." Andrew turned and regarded his companion, uncharacteristically snide, "Besides, I think you're just jealous because you were ripped off, having dressed up as nothing but a second rate scientist."

Lip curling in disgust, Jonathan ignored the comment, stemming from the inherent friction between the duo's costumed selves. "Have you heard from Tucker?"

"He came home last night, but left before I woke up. My Darth Vader mug allowance was gone too. Thankfully, I hide the real stuff behind the Sailor Moon tapes."

Jonathan arched an eyebrow in response.

oOo

Good, bad, continue?

Constructive criticism and reviews appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own it – none of it. Not even the plot bunny.

A/N: Soooo, yeah. Delay much? Sorry about that, but I'm writing a storyboard and doing some actual hardcore story planning. I'm not cut out for epics or novel length fanfiction, but we'll see what I can do. The next couple of chapters are going to just be me trying to get through Season 2 as expediently as I can, so there'll be lots of skipping around. I guess I've done some assuming that you'll be a Buffy fan and have seen your fair share of YAHFs. I'm not much of a dialogue recycler and this is mostly about highlighting the differences. Also, I've cleaned up the first chapter, so hope you enjoy.

oOo

"Vincent is such a drag sometimes." Xander scuffed his foot on Willow's porch, annoyed.

Willow's breath caught in her throat. It turned out that Ford was a total creepazoid, and the whole way back from the Sunset Club Angel had lectured her and Xander about how evil vampires were. Like they could forget? But now, now her bestest bud since forever was having some sort of mental breakdown whether he realized it or not.

Willow tried to hide the frustrated quibble in her voice. "Who?"

"Deadboy. You think after brooding in a coffin for so long he could at least have the decency to be a little more brain dead and shut up."

That's right, the other night when Angel had visited her for information on Ford, he did confess to spending the last century brooding. "I don't think he said anything about a coffin."

"Huh?" Xander sat on the porch swing.

Willow unintentionally grimaced at her friend. He looked so _lost_. Since Halloween, she'd seen that expression a lot. He was different. Oh, on the outside maybe not so much, but some strange gears had obviously been turning in his head since that night. Stranger than usual at least. To her consternation he always shied away from the subject. She was starting to wonder if he could even talk about it. He didn't seem like he knew _what_ was wrong, just that it was.

But she saw it, every time he slipped up. Stupid Tifa this, loudmouth Tifa that – he was talking about Cordelia! The other day he said something about how the demon of the week was crazier than a tonberry wacked out on mountain dew, whatever that meant. Now it was Vincent and Angel.

"Hey, want some popcorn? I think it's time for some popcorn. Roleplaying always makes me hungry for popcorn, and that's definitely what those… hoodlums at the club were doing. Want some?" Willow babbled, already pulling Xander up without his consent.

"If you insist." He didn't put up a fight at all. At least Xander was still interested in food. "Did you see the ruffles on that one guy? Yech."

For once, Willow was glad her parents left town earlier that day. She twiddled her thumbs, the microwave humming. She was going to say it. Don't bother trying to stop her, she was going to point it out.

Xander was oblivious, spinning on the barstool, spiky hair careening out of control.

"Xander, I don't know if you've noticed lately," she took a big breath, "but you've been mentioning people and things that I'm pretty sure you've never met or heard of before. I know your eye color didn't wear off, but are all the memories still just sticking around?" Her question came out in a hurried jumble of babble.

The spinning came to an abrupt halt as Xander placed a foot out, and she found herself on the receiving end of a chilling stare from those new, blue eyes.

"I, I…" He abandoned the stare, instead looking towards the table. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice?"

"Who is Vincent? Tifa?"

Xander opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking at her puzzled.

"But you… You were there. We found Vincent in the basement, and as for Tifa," he looked to Willow for confirmation, but she was slowly shaking her head in a sad negative. In fact, she felt guilty for not knowing from the look on his face.

"Whose life do you think you even remember? Do you at least have a name?"

"Well, sometimes I do, but not right now." He looked ashamed.

"Um, that doesn't even make sense, but do you have anything else?"

"Anything else? Anything else?" His expression made Willow's stomach churn. That expression made her feel so cruel.

He even stood up. Was he insulted? "Sometimes everything seems so foggy I don't know what to do. Vampires feel like the least of my problems. Our problems. And I… and I…" His fists clenched, unclenched. The body that had seemed so tensed and ready to spring moments before sagged.

"Willow, it's like _everything_ else is all stashed up here, but you know what? It's not even weird to me. It's weird to _you_ guys."

"Xander…" She tried to begin gently. "That's because it is weird. Even for us. It's pretty strange with you running around with a noggin full of who-knows-what made up information."

"Made…up?" Uh oh, she hadn't said the right thing had she? His face flashed with hurt. "I _did_ those things." There was a startling amount of conviction in the words. "There is no way this stuff _didn't_ happen. I just… don't know when I had the time to do them."

Willow's face fell. This was not good.

"And I don't know how _you_ don't remember being there. You were definitely…" Xander's face scrunched up, "There-ish?" He started to look somewhat horrified.

"Oh no," he breathed. Then he grimaced, covering his face with a hand. "I can't believe I…" He started muttering. "And… oh not again. Stupid, stupid Cloud. How could you?" He frantically dragged his hands over his face, trying to massage _something_ back into himself.

Whatever it was Willow didn't know, and it was starting to make her nervous. Xander was starting to actually look a little bonkers.

_Stupid Willow_ was more like it. She should not have brought this up. Wait- "What stupid cloud?" Did he think an evil little rain cloud was following him too?

"I'm stupid Cloud." He groaned between his hands in a very 'duh' tone of voice.

Willow choked. This was so not of the good. She almost let out a delirious giggle at the image of a cranky little rain cloud Xander this train of thought dredged up.

"You're a stupid cloud…?" She began weakly.

"No." He started vehemently because she obviously wasn't getting it. "_I'm_ Cloud. And stu-."

At that point, a couple things happened. One, Willow realized the popcorn was burning. Two, things seemed to enter a bizarre once in a blue moon state where things were so outrageous, they were actually in slow motion. Or maybe it was just the burning food.

Whatever the case, as she began wincing at acrid smell of the forgotten snack, Xander's eyes widened comically at some personally terrifying realization. Mouth still moving to pronounce the '-pid' in stupid, he lanced out of his chair as if scalded.

Then time returned to normal, but it was no less awkward.

"So, uh," Willow let out a little cough, "I'll go start a different batch of the buttery goodness?"

Xander's mouth was set in a rigid frown. Did he realize he had admitted something rather troubling?

"Th-thanks but no thanks, Wills. I-I gotta go. I'll see ya later." His posture was rigid and said he was ready to bolt.

"N-no, it's okay." She nervously fiddled with a button on her sweater. "A-and you didn't, uh, say anything wrong." Was that the right thing to say? Sure she wanted to say 'Noooo, it was actually catastrophically wrong,' but that wouldn't get him to stay would it?

"Right." He said slowly, and rather distractedly, expression far away and face white as a sheet. "Not wrong…"

So, did he think he wasn't wrong or was he just repeating her now? Oh, how Willow wanted to just wring his spiky head in her hands and beat the information out. She'd even settle for beating her own head against the counter to make it better.

"But, um, listen…" He started, "Bye." And then he abruptly ended the line of thought before bodily running from her kitchen. Did that really just happen?

Willow's posture slumped. Now she was left alone in her kitchen with bad thoughts and the even worse smell of burnt popcorn.

oOo

With a rough shove the mage's back was awkwardly slammed into the table.

Earlier, Willow had confided in Giles about Xander's unique position, hands wringing in worry. Now, the enraged librarian forced his hand across his childhood friend none too gently.

"What did you do to Xander's costume, Ethan?" The acidity in the words did little to lessen the captive's bravado.

"Who?"

"The boy." The reply was an enraged snarl.

"Hedgehog over there?" The grip on Ethan's shoulders tightened, "I gave him a dinky wooden sword if I can recall. My memory tends to be a bit fuzzy under moments of extreme _dur__ess_."

"Well, you'll just have to try, now won't you? And his hair seems to be a byproduct of your awful stunt, since you seem so keen on remarking it."

"Now that you mention it, the sword was rather large. One might wonder if he was overcompensating for somethi-" The pressure pinning the chaos user increased.

"I did some research, Ethan, and Janus wasn't much of a Chaos God."

"Look Ripper, I'm sorry that the old bednobs and broomsticks was out of Loki busts, but it didn't seem like much of a difference. I swear I didn't give the boy any special treatment," Ethan paused, winking lasciviously, "but I sure wouldn't mind giving the beautiful young woman standing next to him some now."

Cordelia blanched, "As if!"

"You have no right to endanger my charges like this."

"You're not helping anything. You could have left."

"You shouldn't have been evoking chaos for jollies."

"And you say it like a few years sobriety means anything."

"It's been over twenty years!" The librarian answered, incredulous.

"Okay, okay. The years fly by and I messed up. I didn't mean to leave a mark on one of your precious charges, but he's a statistic of chaos. Probably one of the unluckiest people alive this side of the Atlantic, but a statistic nonetheless. Besides, I believe there are much more pressing matters at hand."

On cue, Philip broke out of the library cage, sending the door crashing into Jenny and effectively knocking her unconscious. Giles immediately let go of Ethan, who took the liberty to run as far away as possible.

oOo

Although Jonathan had only been able to dredge up one insignificant passing memory of Cloud from his fleeting Halloween persona's mind, he'd glossed over it so many times in the past week that the stare boring into his was overly familiar. He shifted involuntarily from foot to foot.

"So, Jonathan…the other day," the teenager in front of him looked as anxious as he felt, "Did you drop your chemistry notes or what? I saw some equations and stuff."

_Damn it_. He knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later.

"Yeah. It was some homework for our quiz. Thank god for Ms. Parson's open note policy." His voice did _not_ just crack.

The other boy gave a slight nod, but then Jonathan noticed a scary steeliness in the expression, the amicable persona of Xander slipping. "How do you know about Jenova?"

The gaze was penetrating; Jonathan tried hard not to stare. "Have you ever played Final Fantasy?"

The eyes never wavered. _Mako eyes_. Jonathan's fingers itched. If he could just – _no_. He violently squashed the vestigial thought.

"No." Xander didn't look like he cared to know either.

"It's this RPG, y'know, action role playing game, by Squaresoft. Came out last month for the playstation? Well, in September anyway, and-" Jonathan rambled awkwardly.

"Never heard of it."

"Really? I think it was pretty well advertised. TV commercials and stuff." Jonathan's faux casual attitude was obviously hokey. At least to him it sure felt like it.

Xander shook his head. "Jonathan, I saw the equations." At this point Xander was backing the other student into the locker, unconsciously mimicking the kind of bully that he hated.

"She was just a character in the seventh game of the series," Jonathan choked.

"Jonathan. I _saw_ the equations." Xander's nostrils flared in his face, but a thankful little part of Jonathan at least knew that mako SOLDIER enhancement didn't create a walking lie detector. Not that Xander should have any of those enhancements, no matter what his eyes otherwise seemed to indicate.

"They were for class. Honestly." The fear in his face was real, but he saw the hard reluctance in Xander, the unnatural drive to know about that name, to seek it out. Jonathan was actually pretty confused. Xander should have been forgetting as much about Cloud as he was of Hojo. Sometimes he wished he could forget faster.

Right now, however, Jonathan was standing in front of someone who had gone through too much in pursuit of the monster to give up. Despite this, Jonathan still couldn't let go of his own information because of some fading twisted code a part of him still adhered to.

"Look up the game: Final Fantasy VII." That information Jonathan would at least give freely. He knew where it would lead Xander.

"That really doesn't explain anything."

"Maybe it'll just get you off my back okay? Sheesh, I really was just writing random stuff down." Jonathan took advantage of Xander's waning drive to feign some irritability in the face of possible danger. He wasn't sure why, but Xander still seemed to be clinging to a part of Cloud. A part of Jonathan on the other hand, a part he prayed wasn't Hojo scraping for a last hurrah, was definitely curious.

"Alright." Xander said, if just a bit reluctantly.

Jonathan sighed. That hadn't gone as smoothly as he had hoped, not that Andrew would have been able to help much at this point.

The guy in question was still wearing his white leather jacket, pretending to ignore the girls that walked by his locker while he fake-checked it for the fourth time. Jonathan had to admit, the nerd had the technique down. Amy Madison was already tentatively approaching him at the locker.

"Andrew, right?" She pulled the backpack out in front of herself, unzipping it.

"Yeah." Jonathan could hear the practiced disinterest in Andrew's tone from across the hall.

"You dropped this." Amy passed Andrew an orange World History book.

Awkwardly, the sophomore took the textbook. "Uh, thanks." Andrew had mastered some sort of technique to get girls to at least approach him, but that didn't mean he actually had anything to say to them.

Jonathan swallowed an awkward thought. Was Andrew even interested in girls?

oOo

"Willow, this may sound like a weird question, but," Buffy's nose wrinkled as she turned to her friend, "does Xander look kind of, well, shorter lately?"

The wide-eyed look that Willow responded with was all the affirmation Buffy would have needed. "Not counting the hair you mean?" Willow's face was uncommonly still.

Buffy nodded and the red head sighed, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Yes!" Willow's fervent admission was hushed in a conspiratorial air. "His shoulders don't even look as broad as they used to."

"I didn't notice anything before, but now that you mention it…" Buffy nodded again, realizing the difference. She didn't pay as close attention to Xander as Willow did, but now that she mentioned it…

"You think it has something to do with Halloween too?" Willow's face began to scrunch with worry.

"Probably," Buffy replied flatly before she noticed her friend's expression, "but don't sweat it. Giles is looking for a way to fix it right now."

"I'm not so sure he can." Voice tempered with sorrow, Willow continued, "You heard Ethan, and it's not like he has any real physical problems, just, you know." She vaguely motioned to her head.

"Yeah, I guess slightly glowy eyes and bad hair cuts are the least of our problems. Have you even talked to him about it?"

"I did. It's pretty bad." Willow swallowed. "He even thinks… that _he_ was the one who did… the things in his head. Not that I really know what they are."

"Err, maybe we should look into that?" Buffy asked. "I mean, if it's just harmless stuff like hot dog eating champion or something that's not so bad. He hasn't gone all Ted Bundy on us or anything."

"I hope we don't jinx it." Willow mumbled.

"Whoa, just saying that could get us into trouble!" Buffy looked worried. "Has he, uh, been showing the signs or something?"

"Oh. Oh! No." Willow tittered nervously. "But I get the feeling he thinks we went on some sort of epic adventure that, err, never happened?"

"Now, _that_ could be a bit of a problem. Especially if he gets a whip out and starts acting like Indiana Jones on us."

"He did mention something about us finding Angel in a coffin." Willow left out the Vincent part, not wanting Xander to sound too fantastically crazy, but that might have been a moot point after what she said next. "And he sometimes apparently thinks his name is Cloud?

"I'd give him a C- for creativity on the Angel thing. That's not really that farfetched. As for the name thing, do we really need any more people with interesting names around here?"

_Like Buffy? _Willow's mind snorted. "Yeah…" She conceded aloud. "But I still think we should keep an eye on him."_ I'm worried he'll lose track of reality_. Willow thought, but she didn't want to say it, couldn't say it.

"Deal." Suddenly Buffy laughed. "Besides, after seeing what Giles apparently did for funzies as a kid, it can't get much worse, right?"

Willow was appalled. "And now you've jinxed it."

"Darn it. Stupid mouth."

oOo

Thanks for reading! I'm not 100% satisfied with this, but I figured I'd just bite the bullet and post it. I've been holding onto it for a loooong time, but it'll get us where we need to go. Expect chapter 3 in a jiffy!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own it – none of it. Not even the plot bunny.

oOo

"Woohoo!"

Stupid frat boys.

"Move it dollface. Come on and daaaance." A particularly inebriated young man almost toppled over himself after he sloppily slapped a blonde wig on Xander.

Amend that – stupid, drunken frat boys.

"And here's a tiara for the pwetty, pwetty princess." The laughing faces were closing in, bobbing and tilting erratically with the room. Xander's arm cocked back.

"No!" Suddenly Willow was hanging on his arm, red hair braided in a silky pink bow and lasciviously dressed in a red slinky number that looked positively un-Willow-like.

"Remember why we're here?" She hissed in his ear. "To save Buffy."

At the motion, he looked down involuntarily, for the first time noticing the purple dress and pink sash that he, himself, was wearing. And was that a bra?

Xander looked at Willow, horrified. "I think she can take care of herself?"

"Nuh-uh mister, you've committed yourself to this and we're going." Willow's resolve face trumped whatever terror Xander was feeling. She hung on to his arm and started to drag him towards a descending set of stairs. "I think this is where the dungeon is…"

"Dungeon? Sorry Wills, I don't think we're dressed appropriately." Xander almost stumbled and noticed something else. Since when did sequined high heels even come in his size?

"Don't be such a baby. Girls have to wear this stuff all the time."

Xander sucked on his teeth. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl!"

Willow slapped his arm at the furious whisper. "What did I tell you about blowing our cover? This is supposed to be a clandestine operation."

Willow continued to drag her partner over to an elegant velvet door-shaped curtain, pulling it back to reveal an elaborately decorated room. Cushiony chairs, an expensive sound system and a tacky leopard spotted bed.

"What is this? The honeymoon suite?"

"More like the ultimate bachelor's pad." Xander looked at the speakers in awe.

"You wish." Willow grimaced at the site of the bed. "Wait, I bet that door over there is it."

She pointed, and the doorknob began turning in affirmation. The tiny man that popped out the other end was far from the terrifying monster the teens expected.

"Well helloooo ladies. To what do I owe this honor?" The pudgy man licked his lips a little too eagerly at the duo.

"Um, we were just looking for a friend." Willow put on her best adorably confused look. "She's blonde and about this tall…" She indicated about her height, but the little man wasn't looking.

"I see a pretty blonde right here." The tiny man managed to move much faster and less penguin dawdle-like than Xander would have expected.

He grabbed at the young man's frozen hand. "A chanté miss… My, I've never seen such dainty hands!"

The young man stayed mute out of pure shock.

Willow attempted to diffuse the situation. "Mr. Don Corneo, sir, where is Buffy?"

"Excuse me?" The porky man didn't turn, beady little eyes fixed on Xander and his reddening face. Those blue eyes were simply entrancing.

"Mr. Corneo!" The red head's irate huff seemed to fade into the background as Xander felt the sausage like fingers tighten their grip on his limp hand. This was like a train-wreck.

The tiny man's face squinted up, lips puckering. But Xander was frozen, immobilized. He wanted to move, to scream.

Then, the little man was a lot greener, a lot scalier, and a heck of a lot taller.

But that disgusting thing still looked like it wanted to kiss him!

Now, Xander could scream. "Auuuuyagh!"

_Thunk_.

The world was suddenly much darker and devoid of strange pudgy dudes and lizard people.

Xander's skull must have scheduled a meeting with the floor without telling him. His legs were the only thing still on his bed, resting in a slanted position upwards.

"That's it. I'm never ever cross dressing… again?

oOo

"I can't believe I'm stuck in a basement about to die with _you_!" Cordelia shrieked, pacing a hole in Buffy's basement floor.

"The feeling's mutual." Xander mumbled, rummaging through some of Mrs. Summers' things.

"And bugs, really? How dumber could this situation get?"

Xander sighed. "It'll be _a lot_ stupider if we're dead. Besides, I'm not exactly the one who let him in either…" He let the sentence trail for Cordelia to imply what she may.

"He looked normal!" She groaned.

"I think that's the point of an assassin, Cordy." He tossed an old pair of gloves over his shoulder, still looking for something.

"You know what, this whole waiting thing is taking too long." She stomped up the stairs, but Xander didn't deign to give her a response.

"What on earth are you even looking for anyway?"

"I was just thinking that maybe Mrs. Summers has some materia stashed away in here that we can use on Bug Guy out there."

"Excuse me? Don't you mean material? Not that you're being very specific."

"Augh, you know. Materia. Glowing orb that'll…" Cordelia's blank stare caused Xander to grimace. "Not again." He rubbed at his face.

"Yeeeah. I'm just going to run for it."

"Let's just do that."

oOo

"Everybody get down!" Buffy's yell echoed down the high school's main hallway as the 'officer' pulled out her gun, only to have Jonathan unexpectedly bump into her as she backed up around a corner.

The gun went sliding across the floor, but the Terakan assassin quickly found her bearings and pressed a large blade against Jonathan's throat, effectively taking him hostage.

"Come any closer, Slayer, and I'll slice his throat." Buffy froze.

"Don't I get any say in thi—urk." The hold on Jonathan only tightened.

"Put him down! It's me you want." Buffy assessed her surroundings for a weapon, but instead saw Oz across the room cringing, gripping his arm as something wet and red started to spread across his sleeve. Where in the blazes was Kendra?

The assassin, however, was already backing up with a very still Jonathan.

Buffy was about to make a run for it and meet her around the bend when two clear shots rang out, resulting in a very wet sound. The assassin crumpled into a display, dropping the knife, but taking Jonathan down with her comatose form. He was still scrambling out from under the still body by the time Buffy made it to his side.

There were two holes on the right side of the assassin's face, but the other was positively bloodied. Is that what an exit wound looked like? Buffy was far from squeamish, but this was the first time she could remember feeling physically ill on the job in a long time.

"Are you alright?" Buffy looked both ways, but she didn't see anything that looked like a shooter or the gun that the assassin had dropped.

"Y-yeah…" Jonathan absently wiped at the gore splattering his face with a sleeve, smearing it a little more in places.

"C'mon, let's go." She single handedly yanked him off the ground and into a standing position. She wanted to get as far away from the body as possible.

"Buffy!" Kendra finally jogged over. "I did'en know ya used guns."

"I don't." Her shocked expression must have spoke volumes to Kendra.

"Oz, are you okay?" Buffy maneuvered around the other slayer as a pretense to ignore the body.

"I'm shot, but I think I'll be okay. It," he laughed, a strained sound, "hurts though."

"Hey, Jonathan! Call the…." Buffy looked around, but he was already gone. "I'll go call an ambulance, you guys sit tight."

Kendra followed Buffy to the library phone.

"She was human." Buffy felt like her shoes were made of lead

"What did ya expect? Assassins come in all shapes. Dat is the true art of undercover."

"I just didn't expect…"

"It was her or us. Her or de innocent." Kendra simply shrugged. "B'sides. She could have just looked human."

"I guess you're right. I just wonder who shot her. Could there be a third assassin?"

Kendra just looked at Buffy. "It's best for da slayer ta always have her guard up, regardless."

"Man, you are such a stickler…"

oOo

Drusilla used to love to twirl, spin, skip, and kill, but she really wasn't up to all the physical activity nowadays. Instead, she often leaned across things or sprawled across tables and beds. Here, however, the dusty boards above her weren't very intriguing.

"Mmm, Spike I'm counting all the stars."

"It's daytime, Dru." The bleached vampire leaned over his soft spoken lover. He cherished everything about Drusilla, even her manic murmurings.

"But I can't name them all. They're all in the wrong places and two too many. The clouds are in the way." She lifted an arm, dragging her fingertip across a pattern in the sky only she could see, or maybe just the route of s support beam.

"Luv, you're looking at the rafters." Spike ran a light finger of his own down her profile. "Just wait until tonight. I'm sure you'll be seeing all sorts of stars by then, not to mention the big ole Poofster himself."

"That's right." The soft delirium of Drusilla's voice came out in a bare whisper. "Daddy will be home soon, but not tonight."

oOo

"I can't believe you did that." Jonathan dabbed his face with a towel in the locker room.

"She could have killed you." Andrew chided, wiping down the murder weapon for prints.

"I know! But the thought of you and a gun still just…" He shivered instead of finishing the sentence.

"Yeah, I was kind of surprised too, but everything worked out in the end. And was totally awesome." Andrew practically bounced with enthusiasm. "I'm totally on my way to becoming the next Bruce Willis or Mel Gibson. Hmm… Do I want to make people die hard or be lethal as a weapon?"

Unwilling to even bother and contradict Andrew, he instead cried out, "You were surprised? Those aren't really the words of reassurance I wanted to hear." Jonathan was perturbed.

"Hey, Rufus was great with firearms! The Turks couldn't be everywhere at once."

"But you're not Rufus! Have you ever really held a gun in your life? Just a couple degrees down and I would have been dead!" Jonathan was still somewhat numb.

"I've had plenty of water pistol fights before, for your information. I was just waiting for the day that the secret service would discover my hidden potential."

"Okay, water guns definitely do not count. If you ever, and I mean _ever_, get the inclination to do something like that again you should definitely plan on practicing because we both know Rufus' weapon of choice was a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun, which honestly doesn't have much to do with accuracy." Jonathan involuntarily shuddered again. "I mean, how much do you honestly remember? I thought… Well, I know I don't remember half as much."

"Yeah, seems like only yesterday everything was all so clear." Andrew ran his fingers in a backwards motion through his hair, a nervous tick Jonathan honestly didn't remember him having before, but he wasn't about to comment on the present contradiction. "Now, there's not much of Rufus left, but I did manage to write some stuff down like you asked."

"That's good, I guess." Jonathan only wished he had been able to write down more, that it had been clearer.

"Look on the bright side, your vision is all the way back to 20/20 again. No more glasses for you."

oOo

It was mocking him. There on the edge of his bed, half draped in an old Superman beach towel it still managed to mock him.

Lately, Xander liked to consider his mind a steel trap, nothing gets in our out. At least, nothing important to him left and nothing dangerous came in. Test answers were of course negotiable. Those always seemed to have a way of leaking out. Yet, he was pretty sure the whole analogy wasn't much more than wishful thinking at this point. He would be the first to admit that apparently his mind had sucky security. His mental shielding failed spectacularly at least twice in the face of the wackiness the hellmouth provided. At the moment, he didn't even know what to call his new predicament.

On Halloween something strange hit him moments after Ethan's spell blipped out of existence. He scratched at his chest idly. It was there, inside of him. He remembered lots of things, from riding giant bipedal birds and seeing the world (one with continental shapes he wouldn't find on any map) to countless, horrible battles. But what really scared him was the startling clarity with which he recalled the ideas. For instance, he _knew_ the distinct hum of a mako reactor, the heavy oppressive heat of the metal plant as it churned through the planet's life blood. He hated them.

Sighing, the young man slumped backwards on his rickety mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. The buster sword rested at the end of his bed, glinting in the artificial yellow light of a standing lamp. He wasn't going to look at it. Looking at it gave the strange thoughts in his mind credence, made reality out of what he wished were mere whispers in his mind. Whatever he was experiencing, it sure wasn't the same degradation of foreign memories that Buffy went through after Halloween.

It shouldn't have been a big deal, vanquish the baddy of the week and move on. But he didn't move on. Something stagnated within him. Willow saw it, Ethan didn't do it, and Cordelia thought he was loopier than ever. Every day, it terrified him. Something tickled the edge of his senses though. It was the vaguest sense of 'Don't worry. We've been through this before. We'll beat this.' And he believed it.

If his mind wasn't as steel and trappy as he wanted it to be, he could always resort to another option. Just ignore all foreign materials. He could Sunnydale syndrome this, get over it, and go back to worrying about how to trudge through the latest Latin tome about some ancient evil. He just had yet to determine which memories were the foreign ones.

Xander groaned. It had been a really long day full of assassins and evil rituals involving Angel and Drusilla and transferring powers. Thankfully everyone made it out alive. Well, everyone that mattered. When he and Cordelia arrived at the library they heard Buffy detailing the gruesome death by firearm of the not-cop. That's why when he finally arrived home he pulled the buster sword out of its dusty residence in the corner of his closet.

Sunnydale was dangerous, despite how lame some of its eviler denizens seemed. Assassin bug guy, really? He scoffed silently, but continued avoiding looking at the giant sword. It was ridiculous. He brought it out under the assumption that he needed to start carrying it around again because it would simply be too dangerous otherwise, but now that he'd seen it he was reminded of how preposterous his thinking was.

And again? Since when did he ever lug around an over sized piece of metal? There it was, the paradoxically stupid reason he refused to lift it so much as to even shove it back in his closet. If he used it, he gave credit to the not-so-fuzzy and strange thoughts in his mind. That would be going against his backwards plan of adopting his own isolated bout of Sunnydale syndrome.

Xander crossed his arms petulantly and kicked the offensive object off the bed. He could never have visited a mako reactor; they didn't exist. He ignored the traitorous thought that whatever the case may be, sometimes, when the wind blew just right, he could feel the slight hum of the planet.

Gosh, he really wanted to kill something.

oOo

"You're not looking for bug guts or something are you?" Buffy looked at her best guy friend.

"Uh, no. And besides, we squished all those with our feet yesterday, thank you very much."

"Because you're looking at your hand like it's really trippy and colorful."

Xander's dark eyebrows crinkled at the appendage, seriously debating something.

"Well?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Uh huh." Willow also enthusiastically nodded in affirmation.

"…Do I have dainty hands?" Worried big blue eyes looked up at Willow in all seriousness, but she couldn't stop the ensuing snicker.

"Well, you do wear nail polish better than some of the girls I've met…"

"That's it. I'm never going to movie night with you guys again."

oOo

A/N: I put the dream sequence in here because I couldn't help but notice that the frat boys in the Reptile Boy episode made Xander dress like a chick and this is something that Cloud unfortunately has also had experience with. Hehe.

My multi-chapter writing is awful rickety, but I promise we're getting somewhere. Also changed the story's tagline, hope it's slightly more informative. More soon!


End file.
